


Sorry, Lass

by Ravxnclaw



Series: Sorry Lass [1]
Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Fluffy Ending, Slow Burn, Sorry Lass, Thieves Guild, immense fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-18
Updated: 2015-11-03
Packaged: 2018-04-26 21:58:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 21,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5022007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ravxnclaw/pseuds/Ravxnclaw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which my anger toward Brynjolf's eventual 'sorry lass' line got to be too much and turned into a fic. Personal Dunmer Daovahkiin/Dragonborn, alteration of original Thieves' Guild questline.</p><p>Possible spoilers for the Thieves Guild questline if you haven't finished it, read at your own discretion!</p><p>
  <b> Currently Under Rewrite as of 3/31/2017! </b>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dovahkiin POV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which my anger toward Brynjolf's eventual 'sorry lass' line got to be too much and turned into a fic. Personal Dunmer Daovahkiin/Dragonborn, alteration of original Thieves' Guild. Fluff sooner than later, eventual smut.I don’t own any of Skyrim, Tamriel, Brynjolf, the Thieves Guild or anything other than my original character, and do not claim to own any of them, all credit goes to the wonderful people at Bethesda.

_Sorry lass. I’ve got important things to do. We’ll speak another time._

Gods how I hate those words. I hate hearing them every time I enter the Cistern, always hoping to find friendship but being met with the now constant standoffish phrase each time. He rarely even meets my gaze anymore, refusing to tell me anything other than the fact that he no longer has time for me. I used to relish his lilting accent wrapping around that simple pet name, but not it’s nothing more than a poor attempt at extinguishing my anger with him.

_Sorry lass. I’ve got important things to do. We’ll speak another time._

He walks briskly away from me, easily crossing the damp floor without making the slightest hint of a sound. i used to marvel at the way a man as bulky as he could move so quietly, or how a thief as effective as him could possess hair so red when caught in the sheen of moonlight we are accustomed to working in.  
As he walks away, I’m left with nothing more than the view of him moving farther away from me. His muscles tighten and release under the notched armor and it takes all of my might not to outright stare. I have nothing more than the slight memories about those muscles, the fleeting moments in combat when I would rest my hand on his strong arm for balance or when his back would rest against mine to ensure that all areas were covered. I allow my eyes to rake down his form shamelessly, his eyes and mind obviously somewhere else. Muscles tense under the thin layer of leather in the most delectable way, pulling the worn fabric taunt over those shoulders that have drawn my attention from the very beginning.  
Although it has been a matter of weeks, it feels as if years have passed since I first laid eyes on him. So many unexpected events have transpired in that seemingly huge expanse of time, somehow plopping me into the position of Guild Master, with him as my subordinate. At night when I allow my mind to drift to him, I wonder if my higher position is the reason he has been refusing to acknowledge me.  


_Sorry lass. I’ve got important things to do. We’ll speak another time._

  
No matter how many times he repeats this mantra to me, another time never comes. Each time I enter the Cistern I find myself hoping that this time is finally the fabled ‘another time’, though it seems that he is determined to keep me at an arm’s length. Without him to laugh with, I find myself drifting throughout the Flagon, narrowly missing the corners of tables or unruly chairs that threaten to smash against my hips.  
“C’mere miss, you look like you’ve got a lot on your mind.”  
Delvin’s hospitality is the most welcome I have felt in weeks since he decided that he was done interacting with me. I accept the chair he offers, finding myself falling more than sitting. My mind is elsewhere and I regret my distraction, but I can’t seem to snap back into my usual self. I can feel Delvin analyzing me, his eyes searching for some clues as to my sudden shift in personality. I know that if I could talk to anyone it would be him, but I can’t bring myself to say those words. I can’t make myself admit that those words echo in my mind whenever they’re not being said aloud, that I let myself become so strung up over a man that I feel as if I am alone.

_Sorry lass. I’ve got important things to do. We’ll speak another time._

“What’s got your mind in a knot? I can see the gears working, but it doesn’t look like they’re getting very far.”  
I can’t help but smile, the thickness of his accent somehow able to make even the most ridiculous thing seem direly serious. Vekel smacks a mug down in front of me without even being asked, and Delvin’s sly hand sneaking him some septims show me that he has already thought our conversation out. He feels the need to get me inebriated, knowing that this isn’t something that I’m going to give up unless drunk.  
“Drink. Talk. Let it out.”  
Usually I would have expected more in the ways of persuasion from him, but his quick  
to-the-point attitude is one that he usually saves for heists. I can feel his eyes surveying me, watching to see which part of my face reveals something first. I lift the mug to my mouth, the welcome bitterness washing away the hints of metallic anger. I know how mechanical all of my movements must seem, but there is little I can do to relax my muscles without relaxing my face as well, and I’m not sure that I’m ready for anyone to know the extent of my pain.  
“Just got some important things to do, upkeep on the Guild and whatnot.”  
Gods, my voice sounds as mechanical and false as my movements, and I have to struggle not to flinch from the wooden mug hitting the table once more. I can feel eyes sliding toward my too rigid back and sweaty hands from around the room, internally cursing Delvin for bringing me somewhere so well lit and open. The Cistern provides the perfect amount of shadows and bustle, everyone always working at something or other, never taking the time to truly acknowledge if someone is acting off.  
“There now, we both know that the Guild’s better than it has been in ages, so there’s no use worryin’ about ‘er now. So what is it? Is there something you’re not telling us? Brynjolf’s been off for ages, keeps pushin’ everyone off with some excuse or another. If there’s a threat, it’s your job to tell the lot of us.”  
I can feel his sense of urgency rise, thickening the air with his quick fear and that of those around us. His eyes widen as he focuses on his new conclusion and I see his hand rest on the hilt of his blade. Regret and shame flood through me at the alert that I have caused over something so juvenile, and it’s at that moment that I decide to just push him out of my mind. The Guild needs me more than some silly crush that will surely be over in a matter of weeks, no sense in getting everyone else so worked up about nothing.  
“No, no!” I insist, flailing my hands uselessly in an attempt to quell his anxiety. “It’s just all of the paperwork and recording that comes with all of these new jobs, I wasn’t completely ready for all of it and I’ve been stressing. It’s nothing, really.”  
His hand retracts slowly from his sword, eyes scanning me to assure that I’m not lying. I’m not; the amount of work that Guild Master accompanies is far more than I had anticipated, and it has kept me up hours later most nights.  
“You know, you are supposed to have a second in command. If you would just talk to him, I’m sure he’d be happy to help.”  
Vex’s suggestion, although it was meant to be helpful, was voiced in the same voice that has jeered at me so many times for my age and inexperience. She means to poke fun at me and my ideas of leadership, always finding some sort of flaw to point out in everyone but Delvin.

_Sorry lass. I’ve got important things to do. We’ll speak another time._

“It would be a miracle if he would even say hello to me, let alone get his help on this work.” I don’t mean for it to come out so angrily, and Delvin seems surprised at my sudden openness for talking. “I just mean,” stumbling over my tongue, making myself seem even younger in front of these people that I am meant to lead, “I mean he always gives me some poor excuse about having something more important to do and claims that we’ll talk another time, but it’s been weeks and another time hasn’t come. Sometimes I’ll approach him when he’s lazing around with his feet in the water, but there’s still something more important! I don’t know what could be so captivating that it keeps him from doing his job.”  
My outburst leaves me breathless, my chest heaving and my face quickly blushing. Mouths are hanging open in surprise and more eyes are staring at me than ever before, Delvin’s face a mask of confusion. I regret voicing my problems so openly with those I am supposed to be helping and administering. Scraping my chair back across the uneven stone floor I rip my hand from its position on the mug and fling myself toward the Cistern, fully intending to run up through the door and out into the night.  
That’s when I’m met with a faceful of guild armor.  
I feel like I hit a brick wall cloaked in the Guild’s finest, tumbling back the direction I had just run from. A stream of curses runs through my mind at myself, finally settling on one - you’re a thief for gods’ sakes, look where you’re going! My lip stings from where it smarted against a buckle and I can taste the blood trickling down over my teeth and seeping into my mouth. I keep my eyes closed to force reality away, not wanting to face what will be standing there when I stand up.  
In my mind’s eye I think about him rushing into the room to find me injured and swooning with fear, finding himself kneeled down beside me and checking me for every injury as if he could heal me simply with a touch of his hands. With my eyes closed I can imagine that he would worry over me, that crease appearing between his eyebrows and his mouth slightly open with fear. Though, even in my mind I can’t deny how truly angry and hurt I am, and I find myself fantasizing about rebuking his attempts to soothe me, smacking his hands away in a vain attempt to hurt him as badly as he has hurt me.  
Soon, I am brought out of my fantasy as I hear boots shuffling around my head and am forced to open my eyes before they assume that I have some sort of head trauma. The light streaming from above blinds me momentarily and I see eyes peeking at me cautiously, each one trying to gauge the extent of my injuries. A hand grasps mine and tugs me upward, my body fighting to remain limp and lifeless on the cold stone of the ground.  
“You’re bleedin’.”  
That voice swallows me up in an instant, the lilt of the accent my undoing. I don’t know where he obtained such an accent or even where he originated, but I know that it makes me feel like every inch of my body is no longer my own. It’s as if I’ve been possessed by some wonderful glow, his voice able to absolve me of past issues and debts and making everything comfortable and warm.

_Sorry lass. I’ve got important things to do. We’ll speak another time._

“I’m fine.”  
It sounds more like a gasp than anything and I feel like I’ve turned back into the young girl who has just seen her sixteenth winter, my voice crackly and uneven with every word. One perfectly red toned brow raises and I refuse to meet his eyes, denying myself the opportunity to drown in those curiously wide mossy colored eyes until I am nothing more than a limp muttering fool.  
“You don’t look fine, lass. Look,” his fingers deftly find their way to my scalp, combing through the mess of my hair in the most delicious, moan inspiring way. “You’re bleeding.”  
He holds two stained fingers up as proof, the rusty color clinging to the pale ridges of skin as he keeps it steady in my gaze. I can only imagine his fingers and their mysterious lightness combing through my hair once more, then finding their way to caress down and down until every inch of me has been claimed as his.  
Snapping myself back to the real world once more I’m met with his confused stare, finally lowering his fingers to his side but not bothering to wipe them clean on his pants. His other hand remains holding my wrist as if worried that I am going to fall again, and I am acutely aware of every single inch of his skin that is touching mine. His thumb rests over the inner part of my wrist, grazing over the erratic beating that is my pulse, and his fingers are curled securely around my arm, loose until they tighten drastically at his fingertips.

_Sorry lass. I’ve got important things to do. We’ll speak another time._

Righting myself once more, I allow the anger to take hold of my motions as I push away from him. I know that the rage and hurt are clear on my face and I don’t care, I hope that he can see that me knocking into him is not the first time that he has wounded me. I can feel the blood from my mouth drying on my lower lip as I push my way past him, willing myself to stay in control of my movements and my eyes to stay dry until I am a safe distance from him.  
Stopping briefly only to gather more supplies from my trunk, I run to the door at the end of the Cistern and throw myself up the ladder, each step alleviating the pain of being so close to him. The cold night air bites at my skin and I revel in it, knowing that it is my symbol of freedom for the next few days. They can survive without a leader for a while; Vex and Delvin disperse the jobs and payment, and Vekel keeps them all calm and fed. They only need me when something really detrimental happens, which I doubt is bound to happen in the mere days during my absence.  
I allow the freezing stones of the city wall to pinch and grab at the skin of my fingers as I make my way over, feeling the heat of my anger creep out as the cold of the night invades my thin layer of armor. It soothes me, the knowledge that with every swing of my hand or muffled jump I am growing farther away from him and gaining more of my controlled self. After only four or five hours of sneaking around giants and slashing the throats of wolves I almost feel like myself again, finding the hint of a smile playing around the edges of my mouth.  
Mentally I berate myself for allowing something so silly take away my personality and my control over myself, since he is just a man and nothing more. With blood on my hands and a smile on my face I return to my measly campfire, never forgetting to set up the simplest of wards near the entrance of the cave that is to be my home for the night.

_Sorry lass. I’ve got important things to do. We’ll speak another time._

That was the first time I slept through the night in months. That was the only night I fell asleep thinking of something other than those words ringing through my mind.

* * *

AN: Thank you if you read this, it's my first attempt at writing in years! I may or may not continue, based on the amount of readers that it gets. If you leave kudos or comments, thank you so much!


	2. Brynjolf's POV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My anger toward Brynjolf's one-liner became something much bigger and I wanted to write from his POV.  
> I don't own Brynjolf, Skyrim, the Thieves Guild, Tamriel, or anything other than my original character, all credit goes to Bethesda.

I remember the night she left. I remember being scared that it was the night she would never return. I remember the anger on her face when she left, leaving me with nothing more than a fleeting glance of her rage before she disappeared into the night.   
I can still feel her blood on my fingers, drying and cracking there, and I refuse to let it go. It is the only thing I have that is so absolutely and purely her, everything else falling away into a haze other than the smell essence of everything she is slowly diminishing on the tips of my fingers.   
“You should go after her.”   
Rune’s voice is the first to cut through the silence, his words gently saying the only thing that I want. It took all of my restraint to take off after her and follow her into the night, but I know that she can take care of herself. I don’t need to be there to ensure her safety, she keep herself safe more than anyone I know. Just the idea of her being so angry at me for knocking her down that she took off into the unruly forests worries me, knowing that I am the one that busted her lip and made her fall onto the stone. I made her bleed.   
“Why? She’s been gone for weeks before, she doesn’t need me to take care of her.”  
My voice sounds so sure, no one would know how my gut was wrenching in worry or my palms were sweaty. They don’t know that my feet are itching to turn and run after her, or how it feels like hell to not even be able to check her chest to see how long she plans to be gone.   
“C’mon, just go.”  
Upon Delvin’s request and the supportive gazes from those around me, I know that I don’t have a choice other than going after her. My body moves instinctively, quickly pulling me from the room and to her bed. The chest is still lying open and her stores of food are gone, giving me no clue as to how long she’s going to be gone. My heart beats against my chest as I throw myself up the ladder, quickly picking my way through the headstones and over the wall.  
She covered her tracks, leaving me no idea about where she could have gone. The bushes remain intact and no footprints mar the dirt, disappointment replacing the hopefulness that had filled me. I know that if she is willing to go through so much work to keep herself hidden from me, she doesn’t want me to locate her. If I go against her wishes and chase her, I’m just going to drive her farther away from me, and possibly lose her forever.   
I allow my feet to drag against the thin dirt layering the ground, no longer caring that tracks remain behind me. With the wall to my left I weave my way through the bushes, shoulders squaring as I approach the cemetery. With one last sweeping glance into the darkness I hope to catch a glimpse of her on her way out into the world, but I know that she is already gone. I so badly regret every moment I spent pushing her off with my horrible excuse.

_Sorry lass. I've got important things to do. We'll speak another time._

“Too late, aye?”   
Delvin’s voice floats from the cemetery and over the wall, alerting me that I’d walked farther than I meant to. Using the cracks in the stone wall I heave myself up and over, the cold edges tugging at my armor as I slide toward the ground.   
“Even if I was faster, I still wouldn’t be able to find her.”  
“Well at least you know how to ignore a problem, or else you’d be in trouble.”  
“And what in the name of Mara does that mean?”  
He laughed and I could feel the sarcasm rolling off of him. Leaning against the wall of the mausoleum, his chuckling dies down enough to look at me as if he knows something I don’t. Anger instinctively flares up at the thought of being left in the dark on something, especially since I am supposed to be second in command in the Guild.   
“Oh gods, you’re so blind lad.” He adds another laugh at the end, as if I’m completely missing something.   
“What is it then, old man? What am I missing?”   
“You’ll have to figure it out on your own. “  
I stomp away, feeling more childish than I should, anger burning behind all of my harsh movements. I can feel Delvin’s eyes watching my back as I climb down to the Cistern, knowing that the scowl on my face must make me look more like a child than a man. The remnants of his laughter remain on his face, only reinforcing the anger already coursing through my body.   
I know that I should be mad at myself for being so distant instead of mad at Delvin, but I can’t help it. He obviously knows something that I don’t but refuses to tell me. It may be my fault since I’ve been separating myself from the Guild the last few weeks, but it’s still not fair that he’s keeping secrets from me, especially if it has something to do with her.   
“What’s wrong, Brynjolf? I can almost hear your brow furrowing.”   
Karliah’s whisper of a voice greets me at the bottom of the steps, already intruding on the solitude I had been hoping to find. I can’t help but grind my teeth together in agitation, hoping that by sheer force of will I can convince her to walk away from me.   
“Got some important stuff to do.”   
Muttering and hurrying past her I make my way toward the Flagon, hoping that even though I can’t find solace in the hunt, it will be waiting at the bottom of a mug. Vekel starts to say something, but I must look pissed because that smirk is wiped right off his face. Tossing myself into a stool I watch as a mug of beer is placed in front of me, the most welcome presence that I have been around in weeks.   
“Thanks,” I try to make it clear to Vekel just how thankful I am, but it’s hard when a third of the ale is already pouring into my mouth. I toss a couple of septims onto the bar, a signal to him that he needs to keep the ale flowing as long as the gold is, and I’ve got a pocketful.  
Drink after drink keep splashing down my throat until I can feel my brain begin to swim with the effects of the alcohol, smiling drunkenly when I feel my anxiety slipping away. My limbs begin to feel lighter than they actually are and Vekel has turned into nothing more than a confusing blur of earthy colors, only coming into some sort of focus when his hand reaches out like the hand of Stendarr coming to deliver me the cure to my thoughts.   
I can’t think of her like that. I can’t imagine her, my Guild Master, in any way other than the person that has saved my life and my Guild. She can’t be anything more to me, since I am nothing more to her. I don’t think that I can stand it for much longer, it has to be over with soon. I know that crushes are supposed to be over in a matter of weeks, but weeks have passed and she still possesses every inch of my heart. Every time I see her my palms sweat and my I’m left breathing like I just ran from Whiterun to Riften. The smallest amount of eye contact with her leaves me feeling like I just snuck through a Dwarven ruin; scared, sweaty, shaky and dizzy.   
I can’t feel that way about my Guild Master, guilt creeping into my stomach. She only ended up in that position because I insisted that she join the Guild not only because she looked the part of a thief, but I knew that I couldn’t let her slip through my fingers. I knew from the moment I saw her that I couldn’t let her slink away into the shadows she had emerged from. I watched her handle the front gate guards flawlessly, remaining in charge of the situation the whole time. Even from a distance I could see the strength in her eyes and the way that she shifted her weight onto one hip, looking more intimidating than I thought possible for such a small Dunmer woman.   
I still remember the look on her face when I first propositioned her, the interest and fear that mingled to make her nose wrinkle and one corner of her mouth curl up. I remember how clearly her eyes were piercing through me and analyzing me, searching me for any hint of ulterior motives. She seemed to be hoping for me to be lying, not wanting to believe that her first day in Riften she was being propositioned by the Thieves Guild.   
“How’s it going?”   
Through the alcoholic haze Karliah’s voice reaches out to me, her skin and form reminding me so much of another Dunmer woman that my heart aches. Her hands rest on her hips in a way so familiar it’s hard to believe that it’s really Karliah and not the other woman I have been reminiscing over for so long now.   
“Great.”   
I can feel a thin tendril of ale dribble through my stubble and splash onto the tabletop, not deterring me from the deep drink I’m only halfway through. I can feel Karliah’s eyes watching me likely making a fool of myself, but I don’t care. I just know that the more I drink, the farther away she feels.   
“You need a friend?”   
“Whynot.” It comes out as one word, a hiccup surging through my throat and threatening to interrupt me.   
I feel her weight slide into the stool beside me, her arm snaking toward Vekel to claim my next drink for herself. I know that I should be grateful that she’s trying to help me, but all I feel is anger at her for taking my drink. That anger grows and swells, flaring up in my chest when I realize that whatever Delvin’s keeping me Karliah’s surely in on. She sits there pretending to be my friend, worried about my well-being, but she too knows something that I don’t.   
“wha’s Delvin not tellin’ me?”   
A small chuckle floats out from under her hood, her drinks already growing longer and deeper as she continues.   
“There’s lots that Delvin doesn’t tell you, but what are you talking about in particular?”   
“Dunno, juss’ know he laughs alot. Calls me blind.”  
Karliah’s eyes flash toward me at that, suddenly more serious than they had been just moments ago. Her long fingers tap against the side of her mug, sleeve pulled down to hide the scars that I already know reside there.   
“You are blind, Brynjolf. Do you remember how angry I used get toward you before we…” Her voice trails off at the end of her sentence, making embarrassment twist through my insides and heat up my face. I do remember how angry she was before we became more than friends for a short while, her anger only abating when I was a placeholder for her truly loved one, Gallus. At the time I knew that she was using me as a cure for her loneliness, but I didn’t care. She was my last challenge, the only woman that I so far had met and been unable to bed.   
“Aye.”   
“Consider that.”   
She walks away as silently as ever, stopping only to flip a gold piece back onto the bar toward a yawning Vekel. I feel bad for keeping him up so late and slide a few extra septims his way, pushing my way out of the stool that had as of late become my home. My bed is the only place that feels safe anymore and I stumble my way toward it, the walls seeming much closer than usual on each side, rubbing up against my shoulders when I’m not careful.  
I wonder what she meant by bringing up something so far in the past. I wonder if she wants to sleep with me again? I don’t think that I’d be able to do that, especially since I will likely spend all of my time worrying over my Guild Master until she finally returns.   
That night in my bed, I remember my drunken mind turning the cold feeling of my blanket wrapping around me into what I imagine her embrace would feel like, my mind conjuring up the idea of her arms wrapping around my waist as I drift off to sleep.  
I will always remember that night; it will always be the loneliest I have ever felt, and that was the night that I vowed to never use a sad excuse to push her off again.

_Sorry lass. I've got important things to do. We'll speak another time._

* * *

Thank you to anyone who even read the first chapter, let alone the second one! I may or may not continue, I still haven't quite made up my mind. Thank you for comments, kudos, and all the support!


	3. Dovahkiin POV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Continuing the Dunmer Dragonborn's journey through Skyrim while contemplating Brynjolf, I promise she will have a name soon!  
> I do not own Skyrim, Brynjolf, Tamriel, the Thieves Guild, or anything other than my original character.

_Sorry lass. I’ve got important things to do. We’ll talk another time._

His voice is in my mind as soon as I wake up, the thrill from last night shedding away with the rising light of the Sun. The chill of the night is slowly slipping away, my hands grasping the edges of my bedroll in an attempt to keep all of the head I’ve gathered from sneaking out with the early morning breeze.  
I know that storming off into the wilderness may be foolish of me, but I don’t think that I could stand another night watching him and Karliah drink themselves silly then stumble off to bed. I can remember the shuffling sound of their footsteps as she’d help him to his bed and the groaning protest of his bedpost under the weight of two people.  
Although it’s common rule not to steal from other thieves, I couldn’t help myself when I realized that much like the late Gallus, Karliah kept a journal. Unlike the former Guild Master though, hers was written in the common language, making it even easier for me to find out about their unsavory past. It stuck in my imagination, the idea of those two being as close as two people can be, jealousy rearing its ugly head once more.  
It doesn’t matter how far away from him I am, the image of him and Karliah together will always be part of my brain. The shame of thinking for even a second he could be interested in me still makes my cheeks blaze as my eyes scan the horizon for any hint of threats. Even if he had been interested in me, it was only because I closely resemble another Dunmer woman, the one that he was surely thinking about every time he spoke to me without reminding me that he had something more important to do than talk to me.  
Rolling my eyes at myself, I push myself out of the bedroll to stamp on the last glowing embers of last night’s fire. The breeze of early morning cuts right through my light armor, searching out every joint or opening at my sleeve and invading it to raise gooseflesh on my skin.

_Sorry lass. I’ve got important things to do. We’ll speak another time._

The Guild will be fine without me for a few days, and I keep that idea trapped in my mind while I’m packing up my little camp and tossing everything but the remnants of charred wood into my backpack.  
The rock walls are slick with dew as I take my leave, silently saying thanks to Nocturnal for keeping me safely hidden within the shadows all night. My pack rests heavily on the small of my back as I clamber down the rocky face of a mountain. It feels amazing to once again have no problems on my mind other than finding hand and foot holds, thinking about nothing other than keeping myself alive out in the wild.  
It feels so good to be unbound from the walls of Riften and the societal necessities of the Guild, having no constraints other than the Giant and Orc strongholds that I need to avoid. There is no Blackbrairs to pressure me into doing something that I don’t feel comfortable with, and no way for couriers of the Jarl to chase me down with notices of jobs that need done. I am free, my only worries the wolves and mudcrabs that are just waiting to attack me.  
My sword is heavy in my hand, reminding me that I am never defenseless. It is a familiar weight that is my protection, my other hand glowing menacingly with the always ready threat of destruction magic. The sleeves of my armor are stained with blood both old and new, the freshest red still residing there from the pack of sabrecats that had attempted to corral me last night.  
Brynjolf’s voice no longer rings through my mind, weaving between every thought that I have and distracting me. I no longer focus on him above all else, the rage that first rose within me upon reading Karliah’s journal swallowing any positive thoughts I may have formed about him.  
He lied to me when I asked if there was anything between them. Sure, I had posed the question as a taunt instead of a serious conversation, but he still vehemently denied the idea of them being anything more than friends. He lied straight to my face, and that is one thing that I will not tolerate from those around me, even if they are a thief. It doesn’t matter to me, liars are liars.  
Karliah for so long had been my only friend within the Guild, I put my life and reputation on the line to save hers! I believed her story when no one else was willing to and she listened to my complaints about Brynjolf’s attitude, yet doesn’t feel the need to tell me that he wasn’t interested in me to begin with. She knew that I had strong feelings for him, but didn’t feel that it was important to tell me that my only friend, the person who I risked everything for, was already the object of his affections.  
I realize that my growing anger had caused me to become clumsy, my footsteps padding along and echoing softly off of the layers of trees. Coming to a halt I will my heart to slow, my thoughts still racing angrily through my head despite my attempts to slow them. I don’t want to think about him anymore, I don’t want to think about the sweet things he may have whispered to her moments after shoving me off. I don’t want to think about how my only friend might have been the more important thing that he needed to do, making me think that he was busy when he was really kissing and touching her instead of me.  
I push against my eyes with the heels of my hands, allowing the tears to flow more freely than I had in weeks. Sobs rack my body, shaking my shoulders and weakening my legs until I’m nothing more than a mess of tears and choked sobs. My hands remain pressed against my face in a futile attempt to quell the screams that are begging to finally be released from my chest.

_Sorry lass. I’ve got important things to do. We’ll speak another time._

Letting go of my sad attempts to push those thoughts away, I let them flood my mind instead. His hands on her skin, his lips brushing against her ears, that smile that always made my heart swell against my chest appearing because of her, his perfect enigmatic accent wrapping so wonderfully around her name instead of mine, the fact that in his mind I am nothing more than the person distributing jobs and septims.  
I saved their lives and they saved mine. I thought that we had a bond that couldn’t be broken, though it appears that the bond only included two. Allowing myself to fall off the path and into the grass my hands fall from my face, grabbing the straps of my backpack and holding it tightly to my back, the pressure comforting in a place where I am so alone.  
The grass tickles my face, my skin sensitive and stinging from the salty tears. My skin feels too tight as the last tears fall from my eyelashes, embarrassment filling me quickly from my outburst. I risked my safety just to let out some anger, crying so loudly that I may have alerted all of the creatures in the woods to my whereabouts. I shove myself away from the ground, my mind feeling clearer now that the tears have been let out.  
My feet are unsteady under me, my eyes still blurry with the continuous threat of tears. The path is swaying in front of me, easily swimming in and out of focus. My mind feels as if it’s been emptied of everything other than his words, the voice no longer feeling as important as the words themselves. I always thought that ‘lass’ was his name for me since the moment he met, but maybe it’s just the little pet name he gives any woman he needs something from. He needed me to break into Madesi’s stand and slip the ring into Brand-Shei’s pocket. He needed me to gather payment from the local vendors. He needed me to help rebuild the reputation of the Guild. He needed me to save Karliah.  
He used me, made me think that we were friends, made me feel as if I could trust him, just so that I would save the Dunmer woman that he truly wanted. I was nothing but a tool for him and I didn’t even realise it at the time. I was fooled by beautiful eyes and a fascinating accent, and now I’m supposed to be in charge of this many people? Maybe I’m not cut out to be Guild Master after all.  
In that moment, I decide that upon my return (whenever that is), I will retire as Guild Master, probably passing it off to Karliah. It was likely meant to go to her anyway, but he didn’t want to leave me without any payment for saving his girlfriend, so he gave me the title to ease my mind and keep me off their trail.  
The trees are so dense on either side of me that there is no escape from the path, leaving me without hiding spots of there are wolves or bandits waiting just around any of these bends in the path. My heart races and I crouch down, easily silencing my footsteps in anticipation for whatever enemy may be waiting just ahead of me. I can feel my eyebrows pulling together, my lips pressing into a thin line and my fingers gripping the handle of Chillrend.  
Voices float through the trees, carried my direction by the breeze and I whisper a thanks to Nocturnal once again. Ever since we returned the Skeleton Key she had been on our side, making such a clear difference in the lives of us thieves. Everyone made fun of Delvin for thinking that the Guild had been cursed, but int the end he was the only one who knew what was going on.  
Peeking around the trunk of a tree I count three bandits; three total, two carrying steel swords and one with a long hunting bow resting against her back. One of the bandits carrying a sword is pacing the path, the other two gazing into the fire and drinking heartily. The one walking around is clearly going to be my first target, and I can see that the smaller man with the bow is drinking much less, making him second on my list. The larger man with a sword is going to be last, as he has clearly ingested too much ale to be of much use in battle, made obvious by his boisterous laugh and reddened cheeks.  
With my sword in one hand and sparks crackling around the other I sneak forward, slipping into whatever shadows are available whenever the pacing woman walks in my direction. With her back to me I creep toward her, raising my sword and slicing at her throat as quickly as possible. In one sweeping movement I can feel Chillrend slice through her throat, quickly turning any of her screams into nothing more than a pained gurgle.  
Adrenaline courses through me, pushing a smile to my face as I make my way silently toward the other two. Praying to Nocturnal that they will not notice the absence of footsteps I grasp the sword once more, readying myself for confrontational combat.  
The smaller man leans forward toward the fire, his hands outstretched and a wonderfully large distance from the hilt of his blade. In a flash my blade is flying forward, ridding me of one more bandit. The drunken man has barely looked over at me before he too is resting on the ground, nothing lasting of them but the victory and energy flowing through my body.  
I search through their camp, finding a measly coin purse with nothing more than a few septims and some steel arrows in a small chest poorly hidden in the shadows of the trees. Their lack of food and weaponry shows me how ill-prepared they were to be in the woods and making me wonder how long they had already been out here.  
Dipping one hand into the woman’s pocket I am met with a paper, imagining that is nothing more than a map of Skyrim and stuffing it into my own pocket. I make my way past the sad camp, not even giving it a second look.  
As the hours pass I continue my journey away from Riften, easily avoiding some of the larger bandit camps and narrowly skirting around an Orc stronghold that was hidden to me until the very last moment. The Sun rises and falls overhead, cleansing me of my anger once more, reminding me of how amazing life can be without the worries that arise in cities like Riften. There are no men to confuse you or women to double-cross you. There is no bias based on what your house looks like or guards to try to intimidate you out of your gold.  
While setting up my fire for the night I bend down and jump when I hear a loud crumpling. I swirl in circles, scrutinizing every shadow and spot between the trees, searching for any hint of what could have made that sound.  
After an embarrassingly long amount of time I realize that it was me who made the sound, and it was the paper I took off a bandit crunching in my pocket. Drawing it into the dying light of day I squint, reading the simple words printed neatly on the page three times before they really sink in.

_**Team ⅙. Dress as bandits. Kill her if she comes through. Likely wearing Guild armor. If she does not come through in the next three days, return to base.** _

That was the second night that I didn’t think about his excuse, but only because I was too focused on another stream of words that set my nerves on edge.


	4. Brynjolf's POV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brynjolf is drinking once more, reminiscing on the the things he should have done instead of saying 'sorry lass', when suddenly, there's a crash  
> I do not own Brynjolf, the Thieves Guild, Skryim, Tamriel, or anything else other than my original character, all credit goes to Bethesda  
> Warning: This chapter does contain mention of blood!! Please do not read if blood is a trigger! It is kept to a minimum to keep from triggering anyone, but it is definitely mentioned!
> 
> * * *

Three days had passed since she left, and I had done nothing but worry. I worried that she was going to come back gravely injured or that she wasn’t going to come back at all. I worried that she was staying away not because I accidentally hurt her, but because she had found out about my feelings for her and was too embarrassed by the thought of us together to even be around the Guild. I already knew that if she ever found out my affections would be denied, but I had no idea that she may have quit the Guild.  
Guilt coils its way through my stomach, clenching each of my organs until I am little more than a mess of anxiety. I can taste the acrid tinge of fear on my tongue and with every slight sound I find myself whirling around, each time praying to see her waltzing through the door. Each time though, I am met with disappointment, and am left once more to find comfort in Vekel’s regular drinks.  
I regret every moment I spent admiring her from afar instead of voicing my thoughts. I regret every time I allowed her to leave on a dangerous heist without grabbing her and insisting that she stays safe, for the Guild if not for me. I regret all of the time that I spent trying to figure her out, trying to find some hint about how she feels about me, instead of kissing her and hoping for the best.  
Delvin cuffs me on the shoulder twice, the closest thing to a vocal reassurance that he’s going to get. I can see the grim line of his mouth from over my shoulder as he moves away from me once more, only serving to remind me that he likely knows much more than me. I can’t even feel angry, all of my senses have been heightened by my hopes of seeing her, leaving no available room to contemplate what everyone could be laughing about behind my back.  
I try to keep my eyes on the bar, attempting to count each of the marks where a knife had broken the seal of the wood. Once I reach 28, I can feel my vision beginning to blur and I know that I’ve counted the same mark three times but I can’t tear my eyes away. I know that there’s not anything there to see, just Dirge waiting by the bridge, Tonilia sitting a distance away and Vex with her perpetual frown gracing her somehow still feminine features. Nothing has changed, and staring around isn’t going to bring her back.

_Sorry lass. I’ve got important things to do. We’ll speak another time._

I can’t believe how much time I’ve wasted giving her the same lame excuse, when I should have been telling her that my important things to do include watching her out of the corner of my eye and immense amounts of sweating. I can see the disappointment clearly displayed in her face every time I say this, but I can’t even bring myself to carry on a conversation with her.  
It was so much easier when we were deep in the bowels of Irkngthand with nothing other than survival on our minds. I was able to sneak behind her, my eyes scanning every shadow to make sure nothing was about to jump out at her. I knew even then that I shouldn’t have let her lead, but it was so easy to convince myself to keep threats from sneaking up behind her.  
I remember the fear that took hold of my body whenever I saw her fall to the ground or could tell that her Magicka was running out. I can remember every strike from a Falmer that would fall on her armor, each one feeling like it was hitting me as well. I remember how helpless I felt while watching her fight, her sword glowing impossibly bright within the darkness of the Dwemer ruins, illuminating her swift movements. I can still recall the look of determination ever-present on her face as she chopped down the enemies in front of her, bringing a smile to my face even now.  
Through all of the fear I felt for her, I never truly feared for her life. I’ve known from the first moment I saw her that she could take care of herself, reinforced many times upon watching her protect herself against a plethora of enemies. Recalling all of the times I’ve seen her protect herself slightly alleviates my anxiety over her disappearance.  
Nothing could have prepared me for what I would find next.  
Crashes from the Cistern draw my attention from the countertop, my eyes instantly scanning for the source of the noise. I can’t see what created the sound, but I do notice that everyone else’s eyes have raised as well. Shoving myself out of my stool I stumble back, cursing myself mentally for drinking so much and not being ready for a situation. I try to focus on one of the three doors swirling in front of me, reaching out my hands to discern which one is the real one and which were conjured up by the alcohol.  
I feel an arm wrap around my waist and steady me, looking down to see Karliah’s face staring up at me through my hazy vision. I blink rapidly in a vain attempt to focus my eyes, trying to swim through the mess of alcohol and anxiety to the present. Feet are scrabbling and chairs are scraping against the ground as figures run past me, the Flagon emptying with worrying speed.  
Suddenly, I’m drowning. Freezing water hits my face without warning and I’m left gasping. I can feel it dripping down my cheeks and trickling through my hair, sobering me enough for the room to stop spinning around me. Karliah now only has one face and there is only one doorway ahead of me, and I can hear voices floating under the Cistern door, their words indiscernible once they reach my ears.  
“Let’s go.”  
Her small voice and arm help my feet move, helping me move toward the door, the voices growing and swelling the entire time. I still can’t quite make out what they’re saying, but I can sense their urgency and it makes my heart beat itself against my ribs. Anxiety hits me just as the water did - cold and painful, slipping down through my body until I can no longer feel the tips of my fingers.  
I know that my breathing is erratic as I reach for the doorknob but I can’t reign it in. My mind starts to conjure up horrible images; Mercer somehow returned, our Cistern being raided by guards, the chests once more open and empty, one of our own taken hostage by some faceless threat.  
With Karliah’s arm supporting me more than I care to admit I swing the door open ahead of me, all of the voices silencing at the creaking of the old hinges. I’ve always hated that although we work in the shadows and silence, all of our beds creak and our doors squeak. My breathing is nothing more than a ragged stream of gasps as I anticipate what horrible thing could draw even Delvin from the Flagon, the terrible images all flashing through my mind over and over as if my own brain is trying to torture me for as long as possible.  
I wasn’t prepared for what I would find at the end of the Cistern.  
All backs are turned to me but a few heads have turned in my direction, some eyes sympathetic for some reason and others full of pity. Even Vex, who usually appears the most hardened to the emotions of others is watching me carefully pick my way across the bridge with a sad expression prominent on her face.  
Karliah’s arm tugs me away from the edge as we descend back onto the ground, the damp stones masking the loud shuffling sounds that my feet would have made on any other surface. I am being dragged toward the Guild armor clad bodies that create an arch around the ladder, my heart in my throat when I grow close enough to see the spaces between their bodies.  
That’s when I see the blood.  
It lazily makes its way in the cracks between the stones, slowly making its way toward Rune’s boots. Karliah keeps her arm stubbornly around my waist, keeping me upright when I fight to hurry forward and my body threatens to collapse. I can’t seem to feel my heartbeat anymore and in that moment I was sure that I had died, my eyes refusing to believe what they’re seeing.  
There she is. Her hand is clasped tightly against her ribs, blood seeping through the fingers and dripping onto the ground. Her breathing is labored and her breaths are far apart, her other arm held tightly against her chest and from the angle it’s held I can tell that it’s broken. Her pants are torn and I see another source of blood, a weaving stain making its way down the seam of her pants until it joins with the growing river on the floor.  
I can hear myself suck in a bout of air for the first time in minutes, many more eyes being cast in my direction from the noise I surely made. I don’t care, I can’t stop surveying the damage that is obvious on her body. Her face is pinched shut with pain, her breaths coming out in small pants to keep from further hurting her ribs. Karliah helps me stumble forward until we’re equal with the rest of the Guild, someone else’s shoulders brushing mine but I can’t even tear my eyes away long enough to see who.  
Her eyes open slowly, a deep breath filling up her body while she glances around her. When her gaze falls upon me, it’s as if no one else is in the room. I can feel my chest aching with the need to make her better though I don’t know anything about healing Magicka. Her small mouth opens slightly and I can hear her short breaths, her eyes moving slowly down my body then shifting to Karliah.  
Forcing myself through the crowd I instantly feel the absence of Karliah’s support, my weight suddenly too much for my drunken legs further weakened with fear. The floor rushes up to smack against my knees, but I don’t even consider the pain in the moment. I allow my hands to rest against the ground, the cold adding to my already numb fingers while I suck in air one gasping breath after another. I never thought that I would share the same air as her again.  
Although it’s more of a gasp than anything her name slips past my lips, breath scratching my throat as it tumbles from my tongue;

_“Alva”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have decided that I am likely going to see this through to the end! Yes I promise that romance is coming soon, I just wanted to have a solid story to lead up to the relationship. Thank you for everyone who has been nice and supported me by leaving kudos and sweet comments. You guys are great!  
> Also, for people that are actually reading this, I plan on updating once a day, twice if I don't have lots of other things going on, so check back and there will probably be a new chapter!


	5. Alva POV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alva returns, injured and ready to sleep off her journey, ready to fall into dreams of Brynjolf
> 
> I do not own Skyrim, Brynjolf, the Thieves Guild, or any of its members, nor do I claim to, all that I own is my original character. All credit goes to Bethesda.

_"Alva"_  
My voice on his tongue cuts through me like a knife, somehow more painful than the wounds I sustained at the hands those assassins. Like the others they were dressed as bandits, but unlike the others they were actually paying attention to their surroundings.  
I can feel all of their eyes watching me as acutely as I can feel the warm blood cascading over my fingers, both of my arms too busy to reach for my bag. I know that there’s healing potions in there, and they’re going to be necessary since my hand usually used for Magicka is resting numbly against my breastplate. I can see him staring up at me no matter where else I look, but I can’t stop thinking about Karliah’s arm around his waist.  
Her arm resting against his muscles, wrist curving around his hips. Her fingers pressing into his stomach. His hand brushing against hers lightly before he broke away from her. Her eyes the only ones not watching my blood, watching his face instead.  
My brain exploded with curses. _I knew it! I knew that there was something between them! He denied it, he lied to me!_ His eyes may be watching me, but from his unsteady stance I can tell that he’d rather have her arm around him once more. He lifts himself from the ground as if he doesn't trust his own body, his eyes begging for something but I can’t tell what he wants from me. It may be help getting up, but in my current state we would both end up back on the ground.  
“Bag.”  
My voice sounds like it’s an echo from somewhere far away to my ears, and I can feel the edges of my vision begin to blur. Delvin disappears in the dark tunneling into my vision and the form of someone slips in front of me, a hand reaching down to grab my bag. My throat is dry and I can’t force any more words out to direct them where to find the potions, desperately hoping that whoever it is, they are able to navigate the complexity hidden within my bag.  
A gentle hand rests on the back of my neck, forcing my decreasing vision to tear away from him and point up toward the ceiling. I watch as water gathers together at the point of the arch, sliding down each stone and climbing through each crevice, working its way down until it threatens to drop onto my face.  
My cracked lips are met with the mouth of a bottle, my worry quelling some with relief that someone found a healing potion. It takes a while for the liquid to find its way down my throat, but the warmth of Magicka is instant and soothing. It creeps through my veins, filling me with a heat so comfortable that I struggle to stay awake as it sets my bones with the least possible amount of pain. I can feel the spidery itch of my skin stitching itself together once more, the whooshing wind that always accompanies a potion this strong whipping a strand of hair into my face.  
“Don’t worry, lass. I’ve got you.”  
His voice pulls me from my Magicka induced bliss, the realization that it is his hand in my hair and his fingers wiping the excess potion from my lips forcing me to jerk away from him. His fingers slide easily through the mess of black knots, eliciting the same shivers that it did a few days ago when he assessed my bleeding. My neck still tingles from his touch but I can’t let it show. After storming off like I did, I owe all of my Guildmates an explanation.  
“I’m so sorry for leaving all of you.” I hate how my voice cracks weakly from the dehydration. “I know that it was stupid and I-”  
“Oh shut up.” Vex’s voice cuts right through mine, ringing with self assurance. “You’ve been through a hell of a lot for us from the moment loverboy here set eyes on you, you deserve a break.”  
Loverboy. I know that she has no idea about my feelings for him, but I can’t help wishing that she wouldn’t bring up his relationship with Karliah. Nonetheless, her attempt at kindness is not lost on me, and softens my feelings toward her.  
“While I was out, I realized that I may be unfit to be your Guild Master.” I am met with silence, the only interruption my wheezing from my slowly mending ribs. “If you all are in agreement, I would like-”  
“No, lass.”  
Anger at being interrupted flares up within my chest, especially by the two people who seem to dislike me the most.  
“We won’t accept your resignation.” Delvin nods from behind Brynjolf, his reassuring gaze lifting my heart. He’s always been such a good friend, even if he does send me on dangerous jobs to recover his unusual trinkets.  
“Just get some rest.”  
Rune’s sweet voice is all that I need, my my breath coming easier now that I know they don’t all hate me. I can see compassion in their faces, everyone’s eyes flicking from my face to my ribs. I can feel them sliding back into place, but it’s not fast enough and I still feel like I’m not getting enough air.  
I turn to look at him, panting quietly and a blush rising in my face when he meets my gaze. His knee still rests on the ground, his hands outstretched toward me from when I jerked away from him. His eyes are pleading for something but I can’t tell what, probably to keep myself from overreacting about him and Karliah.  
I can see his gasping breath and his face looks wet for some reason, but I don’t know what could have caused that. His cheeks are so rosy that I can only imagine what he must have been doing before I showed up. I see him gulp once, his mouth open as if he wants to say something to me but fears my reaction.  
“Delvin,” my voice is stronger now, the anger making it clear, “I’m going to sleep this off, then I want you to line up a job for me. Something easy like a Numbers Job.”  
“Aye.”  
Upon his confirmation I break through the circle of Guild members I head toward my bed, my leg feeling stronger than it had in the last two days since the attack. I throw my bag down by my table, shutting the door to my chambers and falling into bed. I can’t even summon enough energy to take off my bloody armor.  
I slept for almost a full day after that, no dreams coming to distract me from what’s awaiting me when I wake. His voice runs through my head, words tangling up until I no longer think about what he’s been saying to me these past few weeks, instead imagining what must have been more important.  
His hands on her skin. His voice whispering things nicer than possible for such a skilled thief. His chuckle when they discuss the things I told her in confidence. His eyes watching her when I wanted them to watch me. Her hands being allowed to shed him of that Guild Armor he’s always wearing.  
I can’t stand thinking about it, but I can’t picture anything else. Torturing myself with these images can’t be good for me but I don’t care, it’s the closest that I will ever feel to having him for myself and I’m not willing to give that up. No matter how much I reject my feelings for him he will always taunt me in my dreams, waiting on the edge of my consciousness no matter how hard I push him away.  
When sleep finally overtook me, I had my pillow clutched to my chest in its usual position, my only comfort through all of those nights slept alone. I can almost imagine that it is someone else, someone who wants to love me and would never leave me with excuses, but my mind always replaces it with him.  
Looking back on all of those nights, I regret spending so much time imagining that it was him instead of saying what I wanted. It should have been his body pressed up against mine, not the cold side of the pillow that I never used. My face shouldn’t be buried in the familiar layers of sheets and blankets, instead finding safety in the warmth of his body and the steady rhythm of his breath. It should have been him there with me in my bed, not my pillow.  
Hours passed and I drifted in and out of consciousness, each time my eyes opened I told myself to get out of bed, and each time my body refused. I knew that there was jobs waiting for me but I couldn’t force myself to leave the warm nest of blankets and pillows, my body sore on all sides from three nights of sleeping on the unforgiving ground of Skyrim.  
“Lass?”  
His voice drifts into my room as if part of my dream, my eyes closed from almost an hour of sleep. I can’t seem to discern whether he’s really there or not, my mind wavering between sleep and life.  
I don’t answer, not wanting to break the spell of this beautiful dream as he enters my room, shutting the door behind him. I’ve had this dream before, his body slinking through the Guild Master’s chambers and finding its way into my bed, his heat overwhelming me, then leaving me with the coldness of reality once I wake. I want to savor this dream for as long as possible.  
“I brought you some food, you need to eat.”  
His form is a blur and I can’t force my eyes to stay open, but I can hear wood hit wood and I know that he’s set something down on the table. The bed dips under his weight and I feel myself smile, one hand blindly groping to find his.  
His fingers feel just as I imagined, tough with cleanly cropped nails, the skin calloused around the edges but radiating heat. He is so wonderfully warm, he always has been. I want my dream to continue, needing this small connection that I have with him, the only way to act on my feelings.  
“Lass-”  
“Come back to bed.”  
Grumbling this is the last thing I remember, a deep sleep dragging me back down under the waves of consciousness and away from the beautiful dream.  
It would be another three days before I found out that I wasn’t dreaming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, this story will be finished! It will likely end up being 10-12 chapters, unless the story isn't satisfying to readers, in which case I will shorten it. If you have any preference, please comment and let me know! Thank you so much for reading!


	6. Brynjolf's POV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A nice long fluffy Brynjolf chapter, because I know we all need romance!
> 
> I do not own Skyrim, Brynjolf, the Thieves Guild, the Ragged Flagon or anything other than my character!
> 
> ****Question for readers: Smut of no smut? I am comfortable with either, let me know in comments what you would be more comfortable with!****

“Come back to bed.”  
Her eyes were barely open, her fingers dancing sleepily to find their way between mine. My heart was in my throat and I couldn’t breathe, I didn’t want to move at all just in case it broke this moment. I never wanted it to end. Her lithe fingers curling around mine, chest rising and falling with the easy breathing of sleep. I can’t get up to leave, afraid that this small moment with her is all that I’m going to get.  
I stay there for countless minutes, watching her breathe in and out, her fingers staying twined in mine as she falls deeper asleep. Her dark hair falls away from her face and it’s almost painful to keep so still, my body aching to reach out and press against her, to feel all of the places she was injured to make sure that the potion healed all of her.  
I hated seeing her like that. Her blood still stains the stones below the ladder and I felt like it was mine. Her hand is cold and I slowly draw it up, grazing each knuckle slowly across my lips. I can feel every wrinkle on the joint, each bone jutting out where her fingers curl around mine, pressing a kiss to each finger individually over and over until she stirs.  
Leaning forward I keep her hand securely in mine, the other reaching to lightly push the strands of hair off of her forehead. A smile curls onto her face and she curls closer to me, her lips brushing against my wrist and stopping my heart. She presses a kiss to the palm of my hand, her lips so much warmer than her hand.  
“How’s it going?”  
Karliah’s voice interrupts my moment, my head quickly turning to lock eyes with her. I wish that my pure will I could force her out of the room, willing the door to close and leave me in this perfect moment. I wanted it to last as long as possible, hoping that nothing would interrupt it but her awakening.  
“Go.”  
It’s more of a command than a request, not wanting to make any sound loud enough to wake her up. When she wakes up she’s going to become cold to me once more, obviously still hurt over how many times I brushed her off with the same excuse. I hear the door squeak lightly as she leaves, but not before chuckling briskly.  
Turning back to her I can see her eyes fluttering, my heartbeat quickening with her movements. Her fingers tighten around mine and she stretches, her lips and nose brushing against my hand. I can barely contain myself, wanting so badly to wrap her in my arms and keep her warm and asleep. She needs to sleep after those injuries, and I’m sure that whatever caused them also cost her at least one night of sleep.  
I fear that she’s going to wake up and this moment will be stolen from me, but she rests once more. Sliding onto her side she pulls my hand with her, tugging my arm down toward her waist. I have to push her pillow out of the way to make room and she’s insistent, her cold fingers pulling my hand down.  
Sliding into bed beside her I allow my arm to fall around her waist, her body situating perfectly against mine. My heart is beating so hard I’m afraid she’s going to feel it against her back and wake up, but luckily she stays sound asleep. With my arm around her waist I feel the curve of her body, her torso pressing against mine and her feet brushing my shins.  
I can smell the crispness of nature and fire in her hair, clearly she spent her days away from the Guild in the wild. Smiling I imagine her protecting herself easily from the wolves that stalk through the trees at night, hoping that she didn’t go far enough north to run into any sabrecats. I know that she can protect herself, but those things are beasts.  
I can feel her breathing quicken after an immeasurable amount of time, alerting me that she’s going to wake up soon. I almost can’t bear to tear myself away from her and the little bubble of warmth, her now warm fingers slipping through mine. I know that she’s going to be awake soon and everything is going to go back to normal, and I will be left with nothing but the memory of her body curling against mine.  
I move slowly across her bed to avoid causing any sounds from the old wood, panic flooding me when I hear her yawn. Her arms move to support her and I slip into the shadows near the door, turning the doorknob quickly before she notices my presence.  
There is less than a second between my body exiting the door and her arms propping her up, guilt invading my mind when I realize that I most likely woke her. She needed that sleep and I took it from her, possibly stealing time spent healing from her.  
Walking toward the Flagon I hear her door open, my back going ramrod straight and my forehead sweating in anticipation of her questions. _Were you in my room? What did you do to me? What do you think you’re doing?_  
“Do you know who left this food in here?”  
Her voice is stronger than before and it’s reassuring, my guilt easing some from thinking that she needed more time to heal. My breathing hitches and I consider telling her the truth. _Yeah, it was me. I snuck into your bed too, held your hand and wished that it would never end. Why, is that weird?_  
“Sorry, lass.”  
As soon as I round the corner I cringe, knowing that I probably just pushed her farther away from me by using the same excuse. It doesn’t matter though, at least she doesn’t know that I spent longer than necessary in her room admiring her, feeling her fingers and smelling the beauty of the natural world on her hair.  
“Oh, okay.”  
I can see everyone waiting in the Flagon, their eyes a mixture of curiosity and smugness. Karliah and Vex stand next to each other, their gazes the most piercing, mirror images of crossed arms and smirks.  
“How’d it do, _loverboy?”_ Vex’s voice wraps easily around the taunt, one eyebrow raising as she says it.  
“She’s still sleeping, but she’ll probably be up and around within the hour.”  
“That’s not what I meant and you know it.”  
My stomach twists and I dread letting them know what I did. After all of my years of easily bedding women and sneaking out before they wake I can’t openly admit that the most I have done is kiss her fingers while she sleeps.  
“Nothing’s going to happen, she’s made that very clear.”  
“Brynjolf, there’s something you need to know.”  
Karliah steps forward, her gentle voice unwelcome after her intrusion on my private moment. Her eyes seem gentle and my heart leaps at the idea of finally being let in on this secret that everyone in the Guild other than me seems to know. I know that it may not be something that I want to know, such as Alva expressing her disinterest in me, but at least I finally won’t be left out in the dark.  
“Yeah?”  
“Alva and I, after we went through everything at Snow Veil Sanctum, we became close. She was my first friend in twenty five years. We talked about everything, including you.”  
Oh god no. She knows about what happened between Karliah and me. She must know that Karliah only wanted me to fill the hole that Gallus left, but obviously it’s something that she still finds unforgivable. That’s why she seems so distant from me, she doesn’t want to be with someone who slept with that many people.  
“That’s it, then? That’s why she doesn’t want me, is it?”  
Delvin slides past me toward the Cistern and I know that this emotional subject is likely making him uncomfortable. Karliah takes his spot, placing her hand on the tabletop and leaning against it, a hint of a laugh on her face.  
“You dumb man, that’s not what I mean.” My face must accurately portray how confused I am because she laughs at me. “Of course she wants you.’  
For a moment, the words and their meaning are disassociated in my head. I heard what she said but it’s an embarrassingly long period of time before I’m able to process what she means. She wants me. Alva wants me. I have so many questions and they’re buzzing around my head like bees, swarming, each one demanding to be voiced first to find my way through the confusion.  
“Since when?” She glances around, a few members of the Guild dispersing before she continues.  
“She told me before Irkngthand. She wanted me to tell you if anything happened in there. She gave me this.”  
Digging around in her pockets she presents a dingy scroll, tied together with a strap of leather that’s stained with a rusty color I can only assume is blood. My hand is moving agonizingly slow as it raises to her note, unsure of what is going to be inside. When I untie the reluctant leather and unroll the scroll I am met with a few paragraphs of her handwriting, messy and smeared with obvious hurry.  
**_My Dearest Brynjolf,_**  
**_If you are reading this, it means that while in pursuit of Mercer Frey, I have finally fallen once and for all. I hope with my whole heart that even though I have failed, you and Karliah have succeeded in our endeavor. I only ask one thing of you - if it is possible, please do not allow my body to be left to the Falmer._  
** **_I also wish for you to know how much I revere you. You are the light that sparked my interest in the Guild and the reason that I do everything that I do. You are my reason for acting and living, you are the center of my best experiences and my heart. Please remember this always, and never doubt my love for you._  
** __**I regret every moment of my life that I spent without letting you know that I love you, and that I never entrusted you with my heart. Please remember me fondly, my love, and live as long as you can.  
** __**Your Reluctant Guild Master,  
** __**Alva  
**   
With her note in my hand I rush toward her chambers, my mind whirling with the new information. She loved me then. She may still love me now. Even if there’s the smallest change that she may still love me, I have to know. I can’t let another day pass without finding out, especially after finding out that she loved me.  
Her room is empty and I burst into the Cistern, eyes scanning every corner and shadow, searching for some hint of her whereabouts. I see Delvin walking back toward the Flagon and Vipir shooting arrows at a target, but it is empty other than that. Heart sinking I launch myself across the arches in the center of the room, coming to a stop in front of Delvin, who’s face looks like he hadn’t even realized I was in the room.  
“Where is she?” My words are whispers and my breathing is uneven, but I can’t waste any time.  
“She’s gone on that job she asked for, why? I didn’t miss any details.”  
I can feel my first childish reaction rising up within me, my body wanting to punch him or stomp my feet or do anything to get the anger out. If only I hadn’t wasted so much time looking at her while she sleeps I could have found out while she was still here. Now I have to wait until she returns, which could be a matter of hours or a few days and I can only pray that it’s somewhere close.  
“Where’s the job?”  
“Solitude. Why, what’s wrong with you?”  
Solitude. The other side of Skyrim. She’s going to be gone for days, riding her horse through the dangers that await those who ride the northern roads alone. What if she doesn’t come back for days? What if something goes wrong and she doesn't come back at all? What if I missed my one chance to be with her because I spent my time pining over her, instead of actually doing something about it?  
“Nothing. Any idea how long it should take?”  
“It’s just a Numbers Job, so she should be back pretty quick. Maybe two days. Did you need her to do something else?”  
“I just needed to talk to her.”  
I needed to tell her that I knew what she said to Karliah. I needed to tell her that I read her note. I needed to tell her that I love her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two in one day! If you don't enjoy this writing, please let me know so I can change it. Also, my plans for this story are coming to a close, please let me know if you would enjoy an extension/another story with this pairing. It's fun to write, but I don't want to write something no one will read. Thank you!


	7. Alva POV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alva returns from her job in Solitude unsure of what she should expect, and there's a surprise there waiting for her. 
> 
> Finally, some lovely fluff and smut, all in one! I know that I said it would be a slow burn, but I wanted to work up to this.
> 
> ****I am almost done with this story! It will be coming to a close in the next two chapters, but if it would get read, I would love to write another story of this pairing. Please let me know if you have any opinions****

With Whiterun fading quickly behind me I make my way home, leg muscles still aching from the pressure of crouching for so long. My horse trots along under me, her pace faster than she would prefer, but my desire to get home more important than her comfort.  
Trees envelop me on all sides, welcoming me into the path to Riften. I can feel the chill sweeping through the air, the first clue that I’m getting close to Lake Honrich, closer to home. RIften was the first place that I ever felt at home, the first place that I had friends that served as more than followers on one of my many quests. The Thieves Guild gave me friends and family, and one person who I wish was even more.  
My anger toward him had calm some after that dream. It felt so real, having him there next to me, his fingers as warm as I had always imagined, his body much more solid than my pillow or a pile of blankets. I remember the smell of him, reminding me of the small moments I caught whiffs of him and marveled that he always smelled so wonderfully him, no traces of sweat or blood interrupting it. It was the most realistic dream I can recall, his arm wrapping around me, keeping me safe and warm while my body healed itself.  
Honeyside Manor greets me through the trees, always a warm welcome when I’m approaching Riften. From a distance I can see the walls looming at the end of the winding path, guards lazing about as if they were nothing more than citizens. In truth they are in this city, and I know that now that I’ve become part of the real leaders in Riften.  
I urge the horse to move faster, my mind unable to settle on what could be waiting for me once I arrive. I’m anticipating Delvin’s urgency for me to return and report my success, but everything else is a mystery to me. Are Brynjolf and Karliah going to be more open about their relationship now that I know, and I’m not sure that I’m ready to face that, despite my calming anger at him. Even if I’m no longer angry, it’s not something that I want thrown in my face every day.  
“Afternoon.” The stable boy leads my horse into a stall, his voice still high with the threat of oncoming maturity.  
I easily breeze past the guards stationed at the door, but I can feel their eyes watching me as I throw open the gate. Riften opens up in front of me like a secret world, hidden away in the surrounding forest, protecting this little hub of criminal activity and ever raising taxation in which we thrive.  
The stone walkways lead me to the Temple of Mara, my heart going out to those dear people who pledge their lives to a God that ruled love. How wonderful it would be to have nothing to contemplate but love and work in a church where the richer you were, the holier you were.  
I spare one glance around myself, Nura’s usual focus centered on nothing other than Talos. Pressing the button I hear the familiar scraping, the last step to returning home. I quickly descend the few steps that lead me to the Cistern, pulling the chain to close the opening behind me. With darkness enveloping me I take one last deep breath, trying to put off the moment I see them together for as long as possible.  
With no warning lips are crushing against mine, a hand tangling in my hair to hold my face against theirs. I struggle at first, panic flooding my body and I fight against them. My fists connect with an armor clad chest and I feel an arm wrap around my waist, and that’s when I smell it. That wonderful, inexplicable smell that is truly and absolutely him, and my stomach turns to liquid.  
I don’t question the motive, I simply allow myself to melt into his kiss. His hand keeps his mouth against mine, his lips demanding and completely in control and it is everything that I imagined. He presses my back up against the cold arching wall, his heat radiating from every inch of his body that touches mine, warming me to my very core.  
His fingers are in my hair, pulling my mouth away from his and I can instantly feel the absence of his mouth, my lips met with nothing but the frigid subterranean air. I can hear him chuckling and my mind begins working again, reminding me that he already belongs to someone else, someone that for a long time I considered a friend. Although I may be hurt by their relationship, it doesn’t give me the right to infringe upon it.  
“Bryn-”  
“Sorry lass.” His mouth is on mine again, his hands working their way down my arms, fingers leaving behind a trail of tingles and gooseflesh. My wrist are captured by his hands, drawing them quickly above my head, leaving me defenseless to his continuing onslaught of kisses and bites.  
“You’re not mine.”  
The words slice right through the thick air between us, leaving a Karliah sized space between our two bodies. I can feel his eyes on me, watching me, as if he’s trying to decipher the meaning behind my words.  
“I know that you’re Karliah’s.”  
He laughs again, that infuriating laugh that always comes out when he knows more than me. I resist the urge to kick his shin with my boots, hating that he still has my arms pinned above my head. I want him to let me go, to let me at least speak to him with some sense of dignity.  
“What are you talking about?”  
“I read it in Karliah’s journal. I know that you’re with her.”  
He lowers my hands, holding them within his against his chest. I can feel his head and the resonating beating of his heart, his eyes somehow finding mine in the darkness.  
“Never in my life have I been anything other than yours.”  
I never could have dreamt the beauty of those words coming out of his mouth, his voice once more meeting my ears with something other than excuses. Through all of the times I imagined what it would sound like to hear him say that he is mine, I never thought that he would actually be here in front of me, allowing himself to be mine.  
“Where did this come from?”  
“Karliah showed me the note you left when we were in Irkngthand,” I can hear the smirk in his voice, despite barely being able to see it, “you love me.”  
“You love me too.”  
My voice is childish and vindictive and soon cut off by his lips on mine once more. It’s just as perfect as I have always imagined, his grip on my hands loosening and allowing them to rest on his chest, his fingers once more finding the roots of my hair. I can feel his thumb grazing across my cheekbone and his stubble on my chin, all of my senses heightened and blending into this exquisite moment.  
“I do, lass.” My skin is tingling every place he’s touching me, feeling just as I remember from my dream. I can smell him all around me, feel his heat seeming to warm the little alcove, everything about this situation so clearly him that it’s dizzying. “Don’t you ever question that, either.”  
I can feel his hand cupping against the side of my face, tipping it up to bring it closer to his. Our noses brush once and my body is alight with his touch, reminding me of how wonderful it has always been when I was allowed touches of his body, the roughness of his armor always hiding the almost uncharacteristically smoothness of his skin.  
“I love you.”  
My words are closer to a murmur than an actual sentence, almost relaxing now that I am able to openly show it. I’ve waited for so long to finally admit this to him that it feels almost therapeutic, letting those words flow past my lips and embed themselves in his brain, knowing that he feels the same way.  
“I love you.”  
This kiss is more forceful than the last, the heat of him intensifying and pulling me into him. He draws my body closer to his, his hands following each curve of my body in a way that makes his fingers through my hair feel like nothing. His touch is warm and liquid, reminding me that he knows exactly what he’s doing with a woman.  
The more he touches me the more I can feel my will weakening, bending until my only desire is him. Between the cold wall on my back and his heat everywhere else my senses are left in a whirl, his lips the anchor keeping me tied to the moment.  
“Let’s go.” I don’t know what prompted me to say this but I do, pushing him away from me and sucking in a breath of chilled air.  
“Where? The Cistern isn't exactly known to be private, lass.”  
“Have you already forgotten that you named me Guild Master?” My distance from him has allowed me to gather some of my wits, my drunken state dispersing some now that his heat is ebbing out of me.  
“Oh gods,” his voice is a groan, hands reaching out to pull me closer once more.  
“We can’t just go barging through the Cistern like this, not if you want any semblance of privacy. You have to let me go through first, just pretend you’re heading for the Flagon. Just try to make sure no one sees you.”  
“Have you already forgotten who taught you to be a thief?”  
His voice is husky and breathy, swallowing up any hint of strength that I had gathered. Merely his voice can turn me into a mess, leaving me nothing more than a puddle.  
“Never.”  
I slip down the ladder, my body acutely aware of everything in my surroundings, acknowledging the missing heat that his body provided. I feel as if every eye is watching me, silently judging my flushed cheeks, although I know that they aren’t. As I make my way toward the Guild Master’s Chambers I can feel their eyes on my back and struggle to keep from displaying how my insides seem to have turned to liquid.  
With the door shut behind me I glance around, realizing that this is likely the least sexy situation that he has ever been in. I own nothing that could be considered feminine, my chest full of different types of armor and weapons, severely lacking any type of femininity. The beds are old and have been through many Guild Masters, though admittedly I did wash all of the bedding thoroughly before transferring from my bed in the Cistern.  
My breathing hitches and I don’t know what to do; do I leave my armor on or take it off? Armor isn’t sexy, but neither is plaincloth undergarments. Should I do something with my hair, should I scrub my arms? No, there’s probably no time for that. All that I can do is pull off my boots, shoving them under the unused bed, trying to hide the inches of mud and muck caked on them.  
Before I can worry even more, the door shuts. I didn’t even realize that he had opened it. I hadn’t thought to light the candles, darkness enveloping us once more, his lips easily finding their way to my neck.  
I can see stars exploding behind my eyelids from the sensation, his nimble fingers working to undo the many belts and buckles so lightly that I can barely feel them. Each buckle gives way with a small click, the last one instantly loosening my armor. He seizes the opportunity and moves downward, lips making their way down over one ridged collar bone, a hint of his teeth ghosting over my skin.  
His hands work their way under my clothing, pushing apart the worn armor until it falls with a muted thud onto the floor. With palms curling around my waist he directs me backward, the back of my legs hitting against the bed-frame and I get the clue.  
I lie down on the bed, allowing him to rip the lower half of my armor from my body, leaving me completely unclothed while he remains strapped in and securely clothed. His lips leave kisses trailing up my thighs, each one causing me to twist or arch in a different direction but feeling equally amazing. I can feel his stubble scraping a path along my inner thigh as he makes his way upward, leaving a trail of tingling skin in his wake.  
“I love you.” He mumbles these words before I feel his tongue, warmer than any part of his body that I have encountered as of yet and pulling an unconscious moan from my throat.  
I realize that many women would be jealous or intimidated by his extensive sexual history, but I am learning firsthand that it has only served to teach him exactly what women want. His tongue is as nimble as his fingers, flattening and teasing once again with dexterity that could only belong to a thief.  
“Oh gods I love you too.”  
I grasp the shoulders of his armor, tugging him up toward me, his body only pausing to scrape the back of his hand along his mouth. I can feel my body coming alive with each of his touches and I hate that he is still dressed, my fingers easily finding each buckle and lock, working quickly to get closer to his skin.  
“Take this off.”  
He follows my instructions easily, tossing the top half onto the floor next to mine and working at his pants. I prop myself up on my elbows, watching him in the dim hint of light as he stands to pull off his pants. His chest is the first thing to draw my attention, the expanse of pale skin covering layers of obvious muscle holding my gaze until I hear his pants fall to the ground as well.  
He crawls back on top of me, his heat overwhelming me once more, one arm curving behind my head while he rests his body on mine. I can feel his breath on my throat, his fingers tickling the side of my neck and he presses a gentle kiss to my shoulder, his other arm keeping his body hovering over mine.  
“You’ve done this before, right?” His voice is hushed, almost as if he’s worried that I haven’t and he’s about to hurt me.  
“Of course I have,” I can’t contain my scoff, “but this is my first time with the right person.”  
With that I can feel his smile against my shoulder, raising my hips to press against his. He understands the hint and I feel him press into me, showing me that he is in fact warm everywhere. He’s everywhere around me, his presence making me more drunk than any type of alcohol. I wrap my arms around his neck and keep him close to me as his hips begin to rock in a way I haven’t experienced in years.  
His breath speeds up with his hips, both quickening and I know that he’s going to reach his release soon. The familiar pressure coils up deep inside my stomach, one of my legs wrapping around his waist to keep up with his movements. He grunts quietly, his face buried in the skin of my shoulder and stars explode in my field of vision once more, an almost animalistic moan escaping me.  
He presses harshly into me once more and an intense heat fills me, his skin sticking to mine with the thin sheen of sweat that lines us both at this point. I can see his eyes are closed, his muscles tensing and I watch as he lowers himself against me, his weight a welcome closeness that I never want to be without.  
“I love you.”  
His words float up to me through the sex fueled haze that fills the room, his eyes closed against my neck. I pull my fingers through his hair, loosening a small gnarl in it, smiling to myself. This is all that I have ever wanted, this moment with him falling asleep on my chest, finally hearing those words said in the accent that has made my head spin from the first moment I heard it.  
“I love you.”


	8. Brynjolf's POV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fluffy love from Brynjolf's point of view that makes me feel better about his lack of conversation in the questline.

I don't own Skyrim, Brynjolf, the Thieves Guild, the Ragged Flagon, Vex, Delvin, or anyone but my original character. All credit goes to Bethesda!

* * *

"I love you."  
She rests under me, her stomach moving easily with the calm of sleep. Her skin still holds the slick heat of what just happened and I trace a finger down her side to her hip, watching as she reacts slightly to my touch.   
Finally, after so long of watching her and appreciating her from afar, I have everything that I want. Her body residing in my arms, skin sticking to mine from lack of movement, fingers still holding their position within my hair and her fingertips brushing against my scalp. The rises and dips of her body that up until now I had only seen in my mind are now free for me to explore, each breath she takes only serving to hold my attention.   
After all of the time that I spent pushing her from my mind and keeping her at bay with weak excuses, this is all that matters. I don’t care how much of my time I spent without her, I only care about getting to spend the rest of my time with her by my side. I no longer regret every moment that I spent without her or every excuse I flung her way, knowing now that she is mine for good. The past can no longer hurt us; I have everything that I want in my arms.   
“I love you.”   
My voice is quiet enough that I don’t rouse her, but it does bring a tilt to her lips. I feel her arms tighten around my neck, burying my face in her skin. I can smell lavender on her, I’ve always wondered how a thief garbed always in leather and steel manages to smell like lavender. Maybe I’ll ask her someday, but for the moment all that I want is to bask in the moment that I finally achieved after all of the time I spend dancing around her, trying to avoid the topic that would ultimately change my life.   
“This is exactly like I dreamed it would be.” Her voice is calm and even, bearing no hint of the sleep that had been present mere moments ago. Her eyes remain closed and she doesn’t move except for her fingers once again brushing through my hair. “It’s odd, I just dreamed about this before I left for Solitude, and now here it is, happening in the real world.”  
Oh gods, she was awake, at least enough to know that I was there with her. She may think that it was a dream, but she knows that I was there in her bed that day. My mind wrestles over whether or not I should tell her. What if I scare her off, dashing away my hopes of being with her so soon after finally achieving them?  
“That wasn’t a dream, lass.” Telling the truth, that’s the right thing to do.   
“What?”  
She sits up, shoving me back onto the bed, her apparent anger turning my pride for telling the truth into bitter regret. I knew that she would be scared, and she’s probably wondering if I did anything else to her that she doesn’t know about.   
“That wasn’t a dream. You grabbed my hand and I didn’t know I had any chance with you. I thought that it was all I was going to get of you and I couldn’t pass it up.”  
Her eyes soften some, losing the outrage that had been there a moment ago. I can see the scowl recede from her face, no longer marring the natural beauty that resides there. Her face still retains some of the innocence of youth, making her the ideal thief in the case that she got caught.   
“I’m so sorry.”   
I can feel her hand on my chest and for a moment I’m afraid that she’s going to push me away. Instead she moves her body closer to mine, her arm falling to rest effortlessly around my neck, her fingers lightly brushing the jutting bone of my shoulder blade.   
“Don’t be.”  
Her lips are on mine and it’s as if every other woman that I have ever seen has vanished from my memory, each one being replaced with a memory of her. The many prominent wives of Jarls and Stewards are washed away, replaced with the different smiles that she has graced me with during our time together. Karliah is erased to make room for the first time I saw Alva and the demanding way she would hold herself, never doubting that she was in complete control of the situation. None of them matter anymore, those flings and conquests and distractions, nor have they mattered since I saw her emerge into the Flagon from the Ratways.   
“I love you.”  
Her words are whispered against my lips, the air seeming warmer with the words that she speaks. I can’t help the smile that emerges when I see her eyes watching me, one of her legs resting lazily over mine. It feels so natural to be here with her, to have her so close and so intimate that it’s impossible it was only a matter of hours since I kissed her. It feels so right to hear and say those words it’s impossible to guess that she was the first woman to hear me say them that bore no relation to me.   
“I love you, Alva.” The most beautiful grin that I have ever witnessed graces her face, the stress that had been so obviously weighing on her for so long replaced with that smile.   
“We need to get back to work, don’t we.” She doesn’t ask me, but it’s not an instruction either. It sounds rather reluctant and I completely understand. The thought of leaving this room and this private world is going to be the hardest thing for me to do, but as Guild Master, she can’t just become a recluse in her quarters.   
It almost pains me to watch her pull her pants back on, hiding her body from me once more. She begins the difficult task of buckling herself back into the many belts, tossing my armor onto the bed in the process.   
“You’re beautiful, you know that right?”   
She doesn’t respond with anything other than a smile, but it’s enough for me. I know that she doesn’t say anything because she doesn’t believe it, but I’m not going to push it. If I’m lucky I’ll have the rest of my days to convince her.   
“Give me a few minutes before you leave or we’ll look suspicious, and I’m not quite sure that I want the entire Guild involved in this relationship quite yet.” Little did we know that they’d all been analyzing us and making bets on how long it would take and who would say something first, but we wouldn’t find that out for a long time.   
I watch her walk out, her hips swaying less than usual with the absence of her usual boots. She shuts the door behind her and I can hear her footsteps heading for the Flagon, hopefully not going to try and resign once again. She may not believe that she’s got what it takes, but everything that a leader should have has been prominent within her since I first spoke to her. She’s confident in herself, knows how to keep calm in a confusing situation and is willing to put herself on the line and fight like hell if cornered.   
When I was watching her take on Mercer Frey it was terrible to be so helpless, Mercer keeping me still and unable to defend her. I counted each hit that landed on her, fearing that each time Mercer sliced at her Nightingale armor would be the last one. Still she rose, making me proud to love her each time I saw her not only defend herself, but strike back at him.   
I glance through a crack in the door, checking to make sure none of the Guild members are milling about in the hallway before slipping out. The Flagon opens up before me and for the first time I don’t head for the bar, sitting down next to Alva at a table instead. Her hand rests on my thigh, hidden by the corner of the table.   
She sneaks a quick look to me before smiling, her hand pushing her hair away from her face. I can’t help looking at her, watching every crinkle in her nose when Vex asks her if she’s about ready for another job and a laugh tumble over her lips when Delvin asks if she found any unusual trinkets while in Solitude.   
“In Solitude? Not a chance. Anything of value has either already been stolen or the Jarl doesn’t take his off of it for a second.”  
“Maybe if you weren’t so distracted making googly eyes at your second in command you would have found something.”  
Her smile diminishes, face blushing and her eyes meeting mine in a state of panic. I can hear Delvin laughing louder than I had ever heard and can’t help but smile at the look on her face. She looks scared as if we’re going to kick her out of the Guild, her hand gripping my knee tighter and her eyes wide as they stare into mine.   
“Relax, lass.” I place my hand on top of hers, running my thumb over the ridges of her knuckles to calm her down. “They aren’t top notch thieves because they’re unobservant.”  
“He’s right. Plus, it doesn’t take a whole lot to notice you watchin’ those great big muscles of his all the time.”  
“Was I that obvious?” Her voice is higher than usual, her hand leaving my leg to grip the edge of the table.   
“‘Course. Plus, Karliah really has a mouth on her after being alone for so long.”  
Everyone in the Flagon laughs at that and it feels so good to be surrounded by my family and to finally have the one that I love. I hook my toes around the leg of her chair and pull her closer, her knee knocking against mine and a smile once more bubbling to the surface. I can’t help but think about the first time I saw that smile after so much time spent watching her brow furrow in focus or her scowl when deciding whether she could trust me. It was the most beautiful thing that I had ever seen, a smile so victorious that it stole my breath.   
I lean in closer to her, allowing my breath to tickle her in a way that has proven very effective in my past. Her eyes dart to mine and I smile, pressing a kiss to the side of her face.  
“I love you.” I know that no one else can hear it, but she glances around nonetheless to make sure no one is watching us. Her hand rests on my leg once more as if she’s trying to warn me to quiet down. “I love you so much.”   
“Shhh.”  
“Oh god, is this going to be our lives now? Whispering and giggling?” Vex rolls her eyes and through her complaints I know that she’s secretly happy. “I don’t think I can handle it.”  
“No, we’re going to be professionals and won’t let his change be a big deal.” Her voice sounds so sure, but she has no idea. Now that I’ve gained access to her body and her heart I’m not going to spend a second of it without making sure to soak up every moment I have with her.   
“Speak for yourself, lass.” Her eyes flash to mine and she glares, pushing my face away from hers. “I don’t plan on hiding.”  
I know how hard she must be trying not to smile and she stands up, her armor hugging her body in all of the right places. I finally don’t have to hide the way I watch her hips move in that armor, her lean legs striding away from me, allowing me the perfect view of her form. She is the first woman to ever look sexy in armor, and I’ve never needed to see her in anything else. She looks at home in her armor, the weight of her weapon looking so at home she may as well have been born with it strapped to her hip.   
“Stop staring at me.”  
Her voice interrupts my tunnel vision as she makes her way through the tables, hips swerving around the corners in a way that has always drawn my attention. I see her smirk at me over her shoulder and I feel like there’s nothing else in the room but her, her figure the center of everything else that I see.   
“Never.” I know that she can’t hear me as she makes her way to the Cistern, but it isn’t meant for her. It’s a promise that I make to myself and would always keep, a promise to never, not even for a second, stop appreciating her.


	9. Mixed POV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One year after they finally got together, Brynjolf's missing, busy setting up a surprise for Alva.

** One Year Later  **

“Brynjolf, where are you?”  
He’s nowhere to be found, the bed still made and his armor gone. I don’t know where he could have gone; he didn’t have a job scheduled until Middas and he’s not in the training room. I shrug to myself, knowing that no matter what situation he gets himself into he can get himself out.  
I walk into the Cistern, sitting myself down at the peak of the bridges and withdrawing my mostly worn out copy of Guide to Better Thieving, always finding to reread the words just in case I’ve forgotten one of the snippets of information. The words are comforting, pushing Brynjolf’s strange disappearance from my mind and replacing it with memories of past jobs.  
“Alva? You in here?” Delvin’s voice barks from the door to the Flagon, his face peeking through the opening. His eyes meet mine and he smiles, leaning against the door frame.  
“What do you want?” I can see him raise his eyebrows at me, crossing his arms over his chest.  
“Nothin’, just making sure that you’re in here.”  
I can feel my brows knit together before staring down at the pages of my book once more, shaking my head. I never know what he’s up to, all that I know is that he’s always up to something. I guess this is the right place for him then, since everyone is always up to something down here.  
“Lass?”  
His voice is close than I expect, still surprised at how quietly he can move when he wants to. He smiles down at me and I instantly notice quite a few changes. His Guild armor has been traded for his Nightingale armor and his hair is brushed from his face. He stretches a hand out, taking mine in his and tugging me up toward him.  
“What’s going on? Where’s your usual gear? Are you going somewhere dangerous?” Question after question spout out of me, my hands running over him, checking for any type of changes. He just chuckles lightly, his hands grasping mine.  
“I love you more than life itself.” He looks into my eyes, his face soft and his cheeks flushed, “and I would face the wrath of every Divine there is to keep you safe and happy.”  
“I love you too, but what are you doing?” I can hear the door to the Flagon opening and see people shifting around, their whispers resonating off of the stone walls.  
“You already know that I want to spend every moment that I have left in this life with you, and I can’t wait for all of it.” He looks down, digging under his armor and I look around to see if anyone else knows what’s going on. They all just look back at me, their eyes and faces revealing absolutely nothing.  
When I look back at him I see his eyes meeting mine once more, his hands covering mine on his chest. He guides my fingers to press against his armor and I anticipate his smooth chest, instead feeling an odd circle with raised bumps in concentric circles all over it. He smiles and lets go of my hands, leaving me to find out what it is on my own.  
I untie the top of his armor, fingers easily finding their way to a chain of some sort with smaller circles hanging from it. I pull aside his armor and my heart jumps into my throat, hands falling to cover my mouth.  
The Amulet of Mara rests against the familiar skin of his chest, one of his hands resting on the side of my hip. He meets my gaze and I know I must look so ridiculous but I don’t care. His smile widens and I can hear the word racking around in my brain, yes, yes, yes!, but I can’t get it out of my mouth. I’m afraid that if I open my mouth to say anything I’m going to cry, and a Guild Master can’t cry in front of the Guild members.  
Nodding I feel a nervous laugh escape me, his strong arms wrapping around me and dragging me closer. I can hear applause break out from my Guild mates as I wrap my arms around his neck, allowing him to lift me off the floor.  
That’s the happiest that I had ever felt in my life, finally knowing that he is going to be mine forever. I feel his face in my shoulder and kiss the side of his head, still able to smell the individual scent that is absolutely him.  
“I love you,” he mumbles against my skin, setting me down on my feet once more, “I love you so much.”  
“I love you too.” I can feel one stupid tear fall down my face, the first time that I’ve ever cried out of pure happiness. He is my happiness and my whole heart, and finally he is going to be mine for the rest of my life.  
He rests his forehead against mine, the light from the closed up well above filtering down to illuminate the tints of red in his hair and the green in his eyes. I can hear his nervous laugh and feel his warm breath against my face, his nose brushing against mine.  
No matter how long I live past this, I know that this is going to be the happiest point in my life, and nothing is going to take that away from me. I will always have this moment; the lightness in my heart, the smile on his face that extends all the way to his eyes, the knowledge that he is going to be mine for as long as we live.  
“This doesn’t mean you get a break from your jobs! We still need money, you know!”  
Delvin’s voice breaks the moment, Brynjolf’s arms loosening around my waist so that I can turn to look at my Guild mates. All of them, with the exception of Dirge, are standing in a row, smiles on each of their faces. I even see a smirk on Sapphire’s face, which is odd considering her usual anger toward me.  
For the first time in my life I have everything that I’ve ever needed. My family is here in front of me, all wearing their matching Guild armor, all watching me and the love of my life. My love is here with me, the only person that I will ever need. I have safety and gold and love, everything that I have ever wanted.  
I feel his cheek on the side of my head, arms resting lazily around my hips. I brush away the stray tear that fell onto my face, mentally thanking Nocturnal, Mara, and all of the other Divines for blessing me with the opportunity to join the Thieves Guild.  
“Now you’re going to be stuck with me for life, lass. You know that right?”  
His voice is quiet in my ear, murmuring this as he presses a kiss to the top of my head. I roll my eyes, turning to look at him to evaluate him. I can’t even answer for a moment, I simply enjoy the wonderful view that I have of him. His eyes are free from the stress of his impending job and his smile is so genuine I’m surprised it doesn’t hurt.  
“I’ve been stuck with you from the moment I met you.” I kiss his cheek, his usual stubble biting against my lips. “Why do you think I agreed to join this Guild in the first place?” 

\--  
**Brynjolf’s POV**

A few weeks after I proposed to her I found myself at the Temple of Mara, the priests and priestesses looking increasingly uncomfortable as the pews fill with known thieves. Only a few are attendance, but it’s enough to make regular citizens uncomfortable. They will never understand that without the Guild, Riften would have fallen off the map years ago.  
“Ah, hello messenger of Mara!” Maramal’s voice alerts me to her presence, sweat gathering on my body at the idea. I’m getting married today. What if she changes her mind about me? What if she decides I’m not good enough for her? What if she ends up regretting marrying a thief?  
When I see her next to me, all of my worrying thoughts quiet. Everything else in the room fades around us and all that I see is her eyes on me, her smile reassuring me that nothing is going to come between us. No matter what happens I am going to keep her by my side.  
Her Nightingale armor is a beautiful expanse of interrupted black and her hair falls down her back, much longer now than when I first met her. It’s fitting, and falls down her back in a way that is even better when no armor interrupts my view of her skin. She glances over at me, her Amulet of Mara displayed clearly on her chest.  
“Excuse us for a moment, please.” She grabs the sleeve of my shirt, drawing me into a back room of the Temple. Fear seizes my body and I wonder if she’s going to call it off, telling me that she’s changed her mind about me. I know that it’s not realistic, but fear is irrational.  
Her eyes are full of fear and her face is paler than I have ever seen it, and it’s staring right up at me. My stomach squirms, fearing the worst of what she could say. Her hands are freezing as they grasp mine, her fingers twisting into mine just as they did when she thought I was part of her dream.  
“I changed my mind. I don’t want to do the ceremony in front of all these people, let’s just go somewhere and figure out something else to do. Please, I’m so nervous, let’s just go talk.”  
I smile, pulling her body against mine and leading her back out in front of the Shrine. I knew that she was going to get cold feet, especially since there are citizens in attendance, simply to watch the unusual act of marriage. Since life is usually so short, marriages are uncommon these days.  
I hold her hand close to my face, pressing a kiss to each of her knuckles as I nod to Maramal. He opens his book, clearly rereading everything that he’s going to say to ensure that he’s going to do it right. He may be nervous, but he’s a good man for doing this. Her eyes continue to plead with me to let her fade into the shadows, but I know that it’s just her nerves. I don’t want her to regret this. I meet her eyes, kissing her hand one last time.  
“Sorry lass. I’ve got important things to do. We’ll speak another time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After almost 20,000 words and plenty of anger toward Brynjolf's one-liner, my story comes to a close, though I'm considering doing an epilogue of many years later, what does everyone think?  
> Also, thank you so much to everyone has read my story and supported me, you have no idea what it means for me to have support on my first attempt. You're all amazing!


	10. Alva POV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The final, fluffy chapter to my first story. I really hope that you've enjoyed it, I've enjoyed writing it! I will most likely start a new work with this pairing after my other one is finished.
> 
>  
> 
> I do not own Brynjolf, Mercer, the Thieves Guild, Delvin, Riften, or anything other than my original character. All credit goes to Bethesda!

****One Year Later****

* * *

“You’ve got a job to do.”  
Delvin’s voice is the first thing to greet me in the morning, my expectedly empty bed putting me in a bad mood from the start of my day. I’ve known that he was going on a job for days now, but it doesn’t make it any easier to wake up without your husband.  
Husband. Gods, how I regret my last minute indecision about marrying him. I knew that I wanted to but the thought of standing up there, in the eyes of so many people, priests and thieves alike made me crave nothing more than to disappear into the shadows. I’d wanted to marry him, but it seemed so out of the ordinary for us to both have so many eyes watching us, feeling so on display, but I’m glad that he didn’t listen to me. He had kept us there, the pinnacle of attention within the Temple of Mara, listening to Maramal forever entwine our lives together.  
Nothing much has changed since the ceremony over the past year, though he has remained the same enigma to me when it concerned his sneakiness. He still made my stomach flip and my head spin, his hands still making me feel like a little girl who’s fallen in love for the first time.  
I snatch the paper out of Delvin’s fingers, not wanting to waste any time on small talk when I’m being sent out to find something that Delvin wants just because it’s rare. There’s little reason for the Guild to steal gold anymore, as the Flagon has become home to merchants that keep us well armed once more, and there’s enough money to keep the ale flowing. Vekel is busier than ever, though I’ve seen the way that Tonilia still eyes him when she thinks no one is looking.  
I tear open the seal of the paper, reassuring myself that I’ll bug Delvin about his waste of time sealing them closed upon my return. His familiar handwriting meets my eyes and I’m left wondering why he gave me a job so simple. I must have broken in and taken various items from Mercer’s old house at least a dozen times since we discovered his treachery, so this must be important.  
I pull the door open using the key, no longer feeling the need to sneak into his house. All of his hired thugs had been dispersed long ago and he wasn’t around to hire any more, leaving me free entrance to the place he had called home. His entryway is still stocked with the minimal amounts of food that he had left behind and I make my way up the stairs, wondering what else could possibly be left after so many new recruits picking the place clean.  
It had become a test for the newest thieves wishing to join our ranks vagrants stopped inhabiting the Ratways. Word had spread that they were being used as a rite of passage, and they were always turning up dead when a new thief made their way through the tunnels. Mercer’s old house, with all of its traps and hidden doors was the next logical solution, a member of the Guild placing something valuable at the end of the tunnels under his home. If the thief made it back with the item, they joined the Guild with open arms. If they returned without the item or didn’t return at all, they were left to the mercy of Riften.  
I knew that although we kept the place reasonably stocked with food, there was nothing of value left to be pocketed. Delvin must be losing it in his old age, sending the Guild Master on a quest that was easy for thieves with minimal talent. I pushed open the bedroom door first, expecting it to be empty of everything but the barest of material items. His bed has long remained far after his death, though it has never been slept in. His blankets stand testament to the unused mattress, still stiff from disuse.  
The rose petals that sprinkled the covering every inch of the bedding. I step into the room, fearing that I have unknowingly walked on someone else’s romantic setting, but being confused that no one else seems to be in the house. I peek into the room, searching for any clue as to who’s evening I’ve intruded on. I take another step into the room, finding it empty other than myself, although two bottles of Black-Briar Mead rest on the bedside table, obviously still cold from the rings of moisture that are gathering at their bases.  
“Happy anniversary, lass.”  
His hands clasp around my waist and I gasp, nearly jumping out of my skin. He plants a kiss on my shoulder and I feel a smile on my face, wondering how I could have fallen for something that now seems so obvious. His kisses work their way up my throat and he pulls my hood down, his arms working their way around my waist.  
“And here I am without a gift.” I laugh as I feel him kiss the top of my head, leaning my weight back on him. He sighs contentedly, his warm breath brushing gently along my skin. His fingers twist into mine and I feel my face flush at his uncanny ability to make me feel like a teenager once more.  
“I don’t need a gift.” He kisses me again, punctuating his sentence. “Getting to be with you is the only gift I need.”  
I turn around, feeling the always warm toughness of his chest under my hands, and press a kiss to his perpetually stubbly jaw. I can see his eyes close and know that I absolutely made the right choice in trusting him. He was right to keep me in the Temple of Mara that day, and I was right to accept his invitation to be his wife. Everything was right.  
“A whole year already,” I wrap my arms lazily around his shoulders, feeling his muscles through the thin layers of armor between us, “and I still haven’t gotten sick of you.”  
He chuckles at that, his warm breath spreading across my face as I lean in closer to him. His eyes meet mine and it’s as if I can see him more clearly than anything else in the world. He seems to be more in focus, the light somehow shining brighter on him than anything else in the house. His smile only serves to draw my attention in further and it’s as if I could fall into him. I could die happy here, looking at the center of my world.  
“Give it time, lass. You will.”  
I kiss his mouth lightly, feeling his teeth nip at my lower lip and know what he’s driving at. His hands grasp my hips and I can feel a shift in the air around us, no longer innocent and loving. His kiss becomes rougher and it’s as if he’s brought my body back to life and I’m responding to him in a way that I have never done with anyone else. His stubble scrapes at my cheek and his hands nimbly unbuckle my armor, though through it all I still feel as loved from this as I do from the gentlest and most innocent of his kisses.  
Most women would have been repulsed by his extensive sexual history, but I have come to realize that it doesn’t matter who each of us were with in the past, as we’ve found one another now. His hands feel like the first to ever really touch me, and his kisses are the only ones that have ever truly mattered. All that matters is that we have found another and although our pasts may be mottled with the occasional mistake, he is the only one in my future.  
“I love you.” He whispered the words on my bare stomach, his rough fingers caressing down my back. “I love you so much.”  
“I love you too.” I barely get the words out before he’s biting gently at my hip, eliciting a startled gasp.  
“I wasn’t talking to you.” He looks up at me sharply, a smile on his face. “Well, I was, but mainly to your body.” He takes a moment, nuzzling his nose against the skin right above the tie of my pants. “I love all of you.”  
With my hands in his hair and his lips on my body he continues his work, but I’m lost in my thoughts. I reminisce about our first night together, and how scared I had been that I was going to become nothing more than just another name on his list of women that he had bedded. I remember the first time I felt his body curl around mine and the safety that his closeness had always radiated to me. I remember the feeling of his fingers slipping into mine so easily it was as if they were made for nothing more than that, and thievery came secondary. I remember every smile and every crease in his forehead and every time that I should have kissed him but didn’t.  
I also remember every time he pushed me away with his excuses of having important business to attend to, almost laughing at how blind I had been when I fell for it. I’d never asked what this important business was, despite the fact that I was his Guild Master, thus the one that was supposed to be handing the important business. I now remember the way that his brow was always sweaty and my hands always felt numb from shaking so much, marveling at how well I was able to push my feelings for him away. I can still hear the excuse in my head when I know he's lying to me, always tempted to throw it back in his face. _Sorry lass. I've got important things to do. We'll speak another time._ I remember the first time that I was with him, and the way that he had looked at me. It was so intense and I should have known that I loved him at that damn moment, or every moment between us before that, but I still wasn’t ready to admit that I had fallen for a thief. I was too caught up in the idea that he was only after me to add a tally mark to his overall total, wanting to steal one night instead of the rest of my nights on this earth. I should have known that from that point on, almost everything that I did would include him.  
I remember the look he gave me when I threatened to run out of the Temple of Mara. He appeared so calm and so sure of himself as well as me, that I would later laugh at the idea that he was worried about losing what little food he had been able to keep in his stomach. He had looked so at peace with the idea of never being with anyone else for the rest of our mortal lives that it had calmed me, and I have never regretted my decision to be with him for good.  
I know that I should be paying more attention to him in the moment, but I’m too caught up in the fact that we have been married for a year. Every night for the last year I have spend with him by my side, and almost every day I have woken up to the peaceful sight of his face. I have heard his laugh from the Flagon and watched as he stole jeweled vases, always by my side. I have cried to him and I have laughed with him, and throughout our year together we have worked through our fair share of problems. We have fought and made up, and I have given him more of myself than I thought was possible with another being. I have learned that marriage is something more than a means for procreation, although most marriages only last a few years. I have learned that our marriage is different from most, because I fell in love with my husband before we were married. I now know that I fell in love with him long before we were married, and I was just waiting to get out of my own way.  
“I love you more than anything else in this world.”  
My voice is soft, but it breaks through the haze in the room. He looks up at me and smiles, his hands placing themselves against the back of my thighs. He rests his chin on my leg and looks up at me with those eyes that still somehow make my stomach squirm as if this is the first time he’s really looking at me.  
I know that he's never going to push me away with that excuse again. He's never going to keep me at an arm's length or find an excuse to leave the room just because I walked in. I know that he's mine for good, and the only time I hear those words again will be in my mind, always wrapped in that perfect accent. _Sorry lass. I've got important things to do. We'll speak another time._


End file.
